I'll Follow You
by TheGoldenPotter
Summary: A short one shot. Harry isn't himself, but when Draco turns up, things begin to be a little brighter.


"Harry, you've got to stop doing this. People are beginning to talk. And you know how it is when they get information about you. Even now.", Hermione said as carefully as she could, wrapping her slim finger's around the cup of hot coffee. It was a muggle item that Ron had taken to lately.

Harry turned around, exasperated. Running his fingers through his black hair. "Hermione! How was I supposed to know that you'd get home? You said you'd be back at 6. It's only 5. And let them talk.", He added as an after thought. They'd been talking about him for years. This wouldn't be nothing new.

"Harry. I know that. But this is mine and Ron's house, and your….shagging guys in the guest bed! And your not descrete about it!", Harry could see her pale face going red with the topic of conversation. She was always careful not to mention anything about the topic of Sex.

"I can't help it if you walk in on me!", He shouted back.

"That's not the point! The point is that this is OUR house!", She finally broke her calm and yelled back. She settled down, and realized she was standing, while the cup of coffee lie soaking into the carpet. She muttered a quick spell, and it flew back into her cup, perfect once again. When she sat down at the couch, she put her head in her hands.

"We love you Harry. You know that. Your like our Brother. But please don't bring anyone of your….._friends_ into the guest bedroom. OK?", She raised up, her face looking at his reaction.

His nostrils flared, and his hands clenched but he didn't say anything. He knew she was right. She was always right. Always the level headed one. While Harry was the one who jumped right into action, and Ron was the one who went along with what he was feeling at the moment. Hermione was the one who thought each situation out, before actually doing something.

But he still couldn't help but feel slightly put off. Slightly pissed. But he didn't say anything to her. He just gave her the "look", and walked from the house, not seeing how her face dropped, and how she put her face in her hands once again.

Harry had been living with Ron and Hermione once the War was over. Ron didn't want to live with his Mother no longer. He said he was grown up now. Could take care of himself. Harry could still hear the yells in his ears from that day. Mrs. Weasley was a fright, screaming how he was a boy. When Ron was almost 18.

It was finally Mr. Weasley who had comforted her, and told Ron to go if he must. And he did. Hermione following behind him.

They found a house that they were living in. Harry came with them. He didn't want to be by himself anymore. He needed somebody to be around. He was scared of what might happen if he was by himself. He was scared he might finally fall apart.

Ginny and himself didn't work out. He broke up with her shortly after the War was over. Even though they were practically broken up to begin with. Told her they couldn't continue any of this. Said he was done. He'd watched the tears stream down her face while he held an impassive expression.

He didn't tell her the truth of why he broke up with her.

He had taken to bringing people home with him from the Clubs he went to. Every night there was a new person in his bed. Most were gone before he woke up. Most were stupid enough to stay until he awoke, until he screamed for them to get out.

He had began to drink then. He didn't do it anymore, after Ron had came into his bedroom one night and screamed and yelled that Harry was letting himself go. That he needed to stop because if he didn't their friendship would. It was their biggest argument they had ever had. Even bigger then the one in 4th year. But Harry stopped. He didn't drink as much as he used to. And Ron never brought it up again.

At first, it wasn't much. Just a Firewhisky here and there. Then he would consume 6 packs at once. Then 12. He drunk to get rid of the memory's flooding his head. The sound of screams. The yells of loved ones names. His friends and family lying dead in the Great Hall. The last etch of torment, or a smile, drawn upon their faces.

The memories haunted him, even when he was awake. It was worse when he was asleep. He would awake, sometimes screaming, the blackness pressing down on him, making him sick to his stomach. It always took a few minutes until he would realize that he was in his bedroom, at Ron and Hermione's.

And that was another matter. Ron and Hermione. They weren't exactly married. But they sure acted like it. It was like they were making up for all the lost time in the past 7 years. The only time they left one another's sight was when one of them was at Work.

Harry was happy for them. He was. But he couldn't help but have that nagging thought in his mind, that they were tourturing him. Showing love after all that had happened. When Harry himself was drowning from his own misery.

Harry would always mentally slap himself when he would think this. Ron and Hermione were trying to be happy. And if it meant showing some sort of happiness while he was in pain, then OK. They had suffered through enough in the last 7 years. They were happy now. At least, somewhat. Right?

Harry had never taken the job as an Auror. He wanted to when he was a kid, but now, he didn't think he could deal with catching the last of Voldemort's supporters. Or deal with anymore fighting. So he didn't.

Ron had joined though. They let him to. Even though he didn't finish school, or do that great in his Classes. Something about showing bravery in such a trialing time. Harry knew that it was because he was stuck beside himself during the War, so he finally got the perks of it. He didn't mention this to Ron.

Ron was beyond happy though. For once, he was able to do something that Harry Potter couldn't. His name wouldn't be said second to last of his, people wouldn't know him as, "Harry Potter's friend". He finally got some of the limelight. And Harry was glad. Long as it was off him for once.

He didn't even work. He tried to give Ron and Hermione money for living there, but they forced his hands away. Said it was what they could do. That he was there bestfriend. He wasn't going to be paying to live with them.

And he repayed them by thinking what he did.

And by bringing people home to sleep with him.

He went into his bedroom, turning the corner. It was a bigger room. Cream walls, beige carpet. A full size bed, and a big closet. It was almost over welhming to Harry, considering he had been in room's the size of small closet's and cupboards for most of his life.

10 minutes into thinking, a knock sounded on the door. Harry managed to call out, before Ron came into the room. He'd grown even more in the last year. His face was beginning to look older. He didn't have a constanly happy grin on his face all the time now.

It was like something was sucked out of him after Fred's death.

"You OK?", Ron asked him, eyes squinting at him as if to find something hidden in his face. Harry muttered an, 'yeah, fine', but Ron still didn't seem convinced. He frowned a bit, and looked at him a few moments longer but didn't press the issue.

"Hermione told me that you were mad at her.", Harry finally looked up and opened his mouth in reply, but Ron held up a hand to silence him before he could start.

"Listen Mate. I'm not going to yell at you. What you do in here is your….business. I'll try and tell Hermione to leave you alone. OK?"

Harry was suddenly glad Ron was his friend. He was glad for his ability to be loyal. To be trusting. To not always say what he felt. To keep his mouth shut. Harry managed to nod his head.

He could feel him still lingering in the doorway, but he didn't say anything. He finally heard the footsteps retreat down the hallway, and it was only then that he raised his bleary eyes from the safe harbor of his hands.

"Hermione. Could you…Could you leave Harry alone. A bit?", Ron's voice was calm. As calm as it was a very moments ago when he was in Harry's room. He was his bestfriend. He knew he wasn't the same since the War. Harry never drank, and when he finally found him, passed out outside from so many Firewhisky's, he finally knew he'd snapped.

He'd carried him inside, trying to hid it from Hermione. He knew that she would take this worse then him. But she found out. She just burst into tears at the site of him, asking allowed why they didn't notice that it had gotten this bad. Ron didn't know either.

But when Harry awoke the next day, Ron screamed himself horce. Screamed that Harry was letting himself fade away. That he was doing nothing to make himself better. Ron had remembered what Dumbledore said once, "Edging the pain, will only make it worse when you finally feel it.", Ron said this to Harry. And left him alone.

As far as he was aware, he didn't drink anymore. Instead, he'd started bringing people home to sleep with him, in the guest room. Men and Women. And for some reason, Ron wasn't surprised at all. It was Hermione who was flabergasted. More over the fact that there was Sex going on in the guestroom, and more specfically, the room Harry was staying in.

Ron knew her yelling and telling Harry off wasn't helping him any at all. That's why he knew he was going to have to tell her to leave him alone.

She didn't say anything. Just looked up at him with tears in her brown eyes. "Why is he doing this to himself?", She whispered aloud. Ron grabbed her around the waist and took her in his arms.

"I don't know Hermione. We all deal with things in different ways. I guess this is Harry's.", and with that, they didn't say anything more.

Harry awoke in bed, to visions of blonde dancing in his eyes. He rubbed them, still feeling weary. His dreams were plenty tonight. And for once, he still remembered them.

Draco Malfoy.

Harry threw his legs over the side of the bed, and went over to the window, pulling back the blue curtains. He looked outside, up into the sky. Still night time. He still couldn't get his sleeping patterns in check.

_*CRACK*_

He heard the sound of an appartion on the grounds. He glanced back outside, but seen nothing. He thought it over for a moment, before grabbing his shoes, cloak, and wand, and departing for the first time outside, to do something other then bring somebody home in bed with him.

He edged outside, into the cold November air, and glanced out. Nothing. Not a disturbance in the air, not a sound. He edged even further.

"Potter. Are you going to invite me in or not?", He heard the familiar drawl, the sound of somebody shuffling their feet, the sound of the same voice that had haunted his dreams tonight.

He whirled around, his face peering into the other. Green eyes locking into grey. "What are you doing here", He heard himself ask.

The blonde shrugged. "I dreamt about you.", he said. As if it wasn't the most unusual thing in the World.

Harry waited a moment before he heard himself mutter, "I dreamt about you to.'

Harry felt himself look down, and then back up again, to find the Grey eyes still watching his every move. "I want to talk to you.", the voice was quiet, as if he couldn't believe was he was saying. And Harry couldn't believe it either.

"Come on then.", He said, and actually reached out to take his hand, which was surprisingly warm. He felt himself tug and pulled him further away from the house, towards the bank of the River, and towards the Moonlight.

He hadn't felt more alive in forever. He could feel himself breath, and that weight that pressed down on his chest, was at bay. He couldn't feel himself drowning.

He grabbed the hand, and pulled harder on it, the feet behind him following.


End file.
